Former Choices
by LostInBlueSkies
Summary: *COMPLETE* Someone close to Warrick dies, and when he is forced to deal with his past, how will it affect his relationship with Catherine?
1. Grief

Former Choices By Marita Linde/SinginSista Chapter One  
  
Thanks: Just to whatever gave me inspiration to write this. I think it was the bus, but I kind of forget. And to Amber for always listening and being supportive. Notes: I have no idea how long this is going to be. Just a YoBling Love fic, you know, because I love them (C/W)  
  
He stared at his surroundings as he walked into the large room. People dressed in black were scattered here and there, talking mindlessly to each other as they wiped away tears. He attempted a semi-smile but gave up and instead straightened out his black suit jacket.  
  
A sigh escaped his lips when he saw the small number of people that were present. He counted the heads and came up with something less than twenty. Not many people had known his brother, and very few of those that did had loved him.  
  
And then he saw her, swaying slowly and sadly in the corner. Her head was down, staring at the ground, and she wasn't bothering to pay attention to the others present. The fact that she was crying made the sight of her seem tragic. He began to walk towards her. He didn't know what he was going to say, but he never could look at her without touching her.  
  
"Vanessa," he said simply, and her head shot up. The warm brown of her eyes stared back at him as she outstretched her hand.  
  
"Warrick." He took the hand but didn't shake it, just let it lay limply against his own. "I'm so glad you're here. I wasn't sure you'd come."  
  
"Of course I came, he's my brother." The words shot out of his mouth instantly. It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying when he was looking into her eyes. He put the hand on her shoulder, watched her blink, felt her breathe. "How are you holding up?"  
  
"Better than I thought I would be," she said softly. "We all kind of knew it was coming, what with the cancer and all." Her words sounded warm, but when he felt her breath on his neck it felt cold. "But still, my husband is dead."  
  
He nodded shortly, not knowing what to say. "I'm sorry." I'm so, so sorry.  
  
She half-smiled. It tickled the corners of her mouth and then disappeared. The tear-stains on her cheeks made the sparkle in her eyes seem fake and contradicting. He watched as she excused herself with a shaky voice and made her way over to the minister who would be reading the sermon.  
  
He didn't know if he should stay. Most of all, he didn't know if he could stay. He hadn't even looked inside the casket yet. The sight of his brother would make him cry, he knew it, and he didn't want to cry in front of these people. Not in front of them, and not in front of her.  
  
Out of loyalty and something else, he took a seat in one of the rows and half-listened to the minister, half-thought about what it meant that his older brother was dead. Thoughts weren't coming easily to him, however, because he was distracted by the shaking head of the woman in front of him, her black hair tied into a tight bun. She was crying, but that didn't surprise him. Like she had said, her husband was dead.  
  
He got up and left. He actually walked down the aisle and out of the room, ignoring the surprised stares thrown in his direction. He was vaguely aware of the fact that she didn't turn around to watch him go, that her eyes stayed locked on the minister in the front of the room who just continued to speak about the life of Jonathan Brown, despite all distractions.  
  
And then he was in his car, driving to who knows where, driving just for the sake of driving. He ended up at the lab somehow, maybe because it felt like he should be there instead of driving around aimlessly. He swung the door open and walked down the hallway and into the break room, where he knew she would be.  
  
"Catherine," he said loudly, taken aback by the volume of his own voice. She turned around slowly and observed the sight of him standing in the doorway.  
  
"Hey Warrick." Her words were soft, sympathetic. He shook his head a little and reached out for her. "You're back too early, what's wrong?" She let him put an arm around her waist, pull her in closer.  
  
"I couldn't stay," he said, seeing the sadness in her eyes. "I just... it didn't feel right. Being there didn't feel right. Like I was some sort of phony. Trying to make peace with my brother after he's died." She nodded, and he watched as a tear fell down her cheek and stopped near her lip.  
  
"I'm so sorry," she said softly, her voice sounding gravelly for the first time since before he could remember. "I know how hard this must be for you. I don't know if there's anything I can do to make it easier." She pushed her face against his neck, thankful for the warmth, and felt his hand against her back.  
  
He reached up into her hair, letting the soft strands of blonde fall against his fingertips. He knew he was hugging her a little too tightly, but he didn't know if he could let go. Looking up, he saw her eyes watching him, worry flashing through them. He took her hand. "Let's go home."  
  
She nodded. "My shift's over, anyhow." He pulled her along, to the doorway, and then through the hallway. Once outside he pressed her against his side and put an arm around her shoulder. As much as he was hurting right now, she was hurting, too. And he hated that.  
  
  
  
"That smells good," Warrick said, picking at his fingernails as he sat on a chair beside the counter. Catherine was cooking something, he didn't know what, in a pot on the stove. She looked up to smile at him.  
  
"Warrick, was she at the funeral?" Her words caught him off guard. He hadn't been expecting any questions about her, or the funeral. He only looked down at the ground and sighed, not wanting to answer.  
  
"Yes," he said finally, not wanting to see the look she threw him. He wanted -no, needed- to change the subject. "You look really cute in that apron..." She smiled slightly, stirred the contents in the pot, and spoke again.  
  
"Did you talk to her?" she asked. He had noticed early on in the evening that her attitude, not just towards him, but to everything, was different. She walked around the house a little slower, her steps a little heavier. She needed to touch him more often. He knew she was upset, and he wished he could do something about it. The only thing he could think of doing right now was to answer her questions as honestly as possible.  
  
"Yes," he repeated. "And, to answer your next question, she seemed devastated." She didn't like his tone.  
  
"Warrick, I was just asking." She took the pot off of the stove and set it on the table, fanning it with the end of her apron. In a million years he would never have pictured Catherine wearing an apron. "She is your ex-wife for pete's sake."  
  
He looked at her softly. "Spaghetti?" She nodded. "Sounds good, hook me up with some." She began heaping the pasta onto a plate and when she was done, handed it to him. He took a bite and smiled. "It's good," he said between chews.  
  
"Warrick..." she said softly, putting her hand on his. "I understand that this is hard for you to talk about, but..." Her eyes said the rest.  
  
He looked down at his hands. "Catherine, just give me some time, OK? Just..." He raised his hand above his head and sighed. "I'm sorry about the way I've been acting. I'm so sorry, come here."  
  
She didn't, though. She waited for him to come to her. She was completely baffled at his behaviour. One minute he was snapping at her, the next minute he had his arms wrapped around her waist and was swaying slowly with her in the middle of the kitchen. And then she heard it, the softest, tiniest hint of a sob emanating from his mouth. When she pulled him closer it only grew louder, grew to more and more sobs, till he was crying uncontrollably against her shoulder. 


	2. Confusion

Former Choices Chapter Two  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks for all the nice reviews, guys. I'm hoping to update this fic quicker than my others. *shameful grin* Thanks: Amber, my lovely and wonderful beta/friend.  
  
  
  
He awoke the next morning to the smell of her hair. But when he opened his eyes and looked around, she wasn't there. The bedroom was quiet, calm, and full of light. The curtains had been opened, no doubt by Catherine herself on her way out. He groaned and flipped over to lie on his stomach, facing the door. "Catherine?" he called out, wanting to know where she was. No answer. He didn't hear any noises, so he got out of bed, got dressed, and went into the kitchen to eat some breakfast.  
  
The entire house was spotless. Not a thing was out of place. She always cleaned when she was upset, he reminded himself, and looked once more at his surroundings. She must have been pretty damned upset. She had even cleaned out the refrigerator, he noted, when he opened it to get some fruit.  
  
She must have stayed up pretty late, since he had gone to bed around eleven, and she hadn't done any cleaning before that. He rubbed a hand over his face, wanting to know where she was. He played with the handle of his coffee cup for a few seconds before picking up the phone and dialing her cell number.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"Hey," he said, and gulped. He was nervous for some reason. "It's me. Where are you?"  
  
"Warrick, look at the clock." He did so.  
  
"Oh. You're bringing Lindsey to school." He felt like smacking himself upside the head, but he just sighed. "I'm sorry, I totally forgot."  
  
"You were sound asleep, and I wasn't, so I just... don't worry about it." Her voice was strained and thick. In the background he could hear the engine of her Tahoe and the beeping of a couple of horns, one of them probably hers. "I'll be home in about ten minutes," she told him.  
  
"OK. Goodbye," he said, then quickly, "I love you."  
  
But she had already hung up.  
  
He was aware of the fact that somewhere in the past three years something between them had gone downhill. He was even more aware of it when she came walking through the door. She was wearing his sunglasses and the expression that she usually saved for suspects in cases.  
  
"Hey," he said softly, almost nervously. She rose an eyebrow. Then she took off the sunglasses, folded them up, and put them in the breast pocket of his shirt.  
  
"Sorry, the sun gets in my eyes when I'm driving and I couldn't find my own." She stared at him for a few seconds and then looked over to the counter. "Want some coffee?"  
  
He pointed to the cup on the table. "I'm good." She nodded. "Cath..." he trailed off.  
  
She looked up at him and smiled slightly. "What is it?"  
  
"What happened? Between us, I mean..." He played with the ring on his finger and saw her hand tense around the handle of the coffee pot.  
  
"What do you mean?" He knew she was pretending to be oblivious, that she knew exactly what he meant, but he repeated himself anyway.  
  
"What happened? Catherine, when we were first married nothing could keep us apart. Nowadays... it feels like the last time we really talked was when all this stuff with my brother started coming out. And that was over six months ago." She looked down at the ground and shuffled her feet across the white linoleum.  
  
"Then talk to me," she said suddenly, and looked up at him with sparks of anger in her eyes. "Talk to me, dammit! I try to get things out of you, I try to get you to come to me with stuff that's bothering you, but you close up. When you get hurt, you close up and you don't talk to anyone. You never used to be this way. But something about me changed you." She was breathing hard by the time she was done, and he stood to put a hand on each of her cheeks.  
  
"It's not your fault." And he meant it, with every fibre of his being. "The way I behave is not your fault." He was about to explain himself when the phone rang shrilly in the corner of the room, breaking his attention span into pieces.  
  
"There was a time when you would've let that ring," she reminded him, putting a hand on his waist, urging him not to answer it. He smiled, pulled her in for a hug, and let the machine get it.  
  
"Hello Warrick, it's Vanessa." He stopped when he heard the sound of her voice on his answering machine. "You're obviously not home right now, but when you hear this message, could you drop by my house?" She gave an address. "It's about your brother's will."  
  
With shaking hands he hugged his wife, kissed her goodbye, even, something he hadn't done in a while. He ignored her suggestion that she come along, told her it wasn't a good idea. Waving slightly at the door, he made his way to the car and was gone.  
  
He arrived at the his brother's house no more than thirty minutes later. Turning off the engine, he gazed up at the four-story mansion that Jonathan had bought with his unlimited supply of money. His brother had been wealthy, there was no doubt about that, and Warrick was sure that almost none of that wealth would be bestowed upon him. The reading of the will would consist of Warrick getting a pat on the back and maybe an old lamp. He sighed and wondered at the things he did for family.  
  
Vanessa met him at the door, her soft red blouse pressing tight against her skin, the tears in her eyes dry. She stepped back, letting him in, and her smile was more than fake, it was forced. He brushed past her into the foyer, allowing himself to be awed at the amazing possessions his brother had acquired over the years.  
  
"I'm so glad you came, Warrick," she said. Much like the day before, he wanted to tell her that he never had any intention of not coming.  
  
"How's everyone doing?" he asked, but his voice was less sympathetic than it had been yesterday. Overnight, he had been reminded of what she had done to him.  
  
"We're doing well." She looked into his eyes and seemed to sense his confused feelings. Sympathy mixed with stale anger. She nodded.  
  
"Why didn't Arianna come to the funeral?" he asked, but regretted it the moment he did. Tension washed over her face and she looked down at the ground, clearing her throat.  
  
"She said she didn't feel the need," was her only reply. Warrick just nodded, not wanting to cause any trouble with Vanessa and her daughter, and asked her where he was supposed to go for this will-reading. "You're in a hurry," she stated.  
  
He shrugged. "I've only got so many hours before my wife and I have to leave for work again. I'd like to spend all the time I can with her."  
  
"Why didn't she come?" she asked, seemingly to mock his comment. He just frowned.  
  
"She's busy," he said with indignation. "Where do I go for this will thing?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow and turned to walk down the hallway. "Right this way." 


	3. Disturbing the Peace

Former Choices Chapter Two  
  
Author's notes: Wheeee, I'm having so much fun with this fan fic! Meanwhile, we get a taste of Bitchy!Catherine at the end of this chapter. Thanks: Uh, to all the awesome reviews! Thanks guys, and keep it up!! Hope you like this chapter!  
  
  
  
After the reading of the will, which had been tediously long, Warrick was lead back into the front foyer in a state of shock. His brother had given him a lot of money, and as of now he had no idea what he was going to do with it. Not expecting more than a small mention, he was completely bewildered when the lawyer told him what he had inherited.  
  
Vanessa came up from behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder in a congratulatory gesture. She smelled like gardenia oil and something else, something he couldn't place. He turned to face her and looked into the deep brown pools of her eyes. "Why would he give me the money?" he asked, clearly baffled.  
  
She smiled. "Your brother loved you, Warrick, despite everything that went on before his death. He just wanted to... show you how much he appreciated you, I guess. He never was good with words."  
  
He felt like crying again, but held off, knowing it would only make him seem weak. Instead he settled for a ragged sigh and a semi-smile in Vanessa's direction. Her eyes were boring holes into him, but before she could speak someone came stomping down the stairs and a teenager's voice rang through the room.  
  
"Vanessa! Has Uncle Warrick come yet?!" Arianna, Warrick realized, was the owner of the voice. His thirteen year-old niece. Vanessa rolled her eyes and turned toward the noise.  
  
"Yes, he's here!" she yelled back, clearly agitated. "Now stop shouting in the house and get down here!" Warrick couldn't help but notice the irony in Vanessa's command but opted not to smirk like he wanted to.  
  
Arianna, a bundle of colourful clothing and dark brown curls, suddenly flung herself into his arms from out of nowhere. She giggled with glee and kissed him with a loud smack on the cheek. "Heey, Uncle Warrick, what's up?"  
  
He grinned. "Not much, baby girl." Just as he was beginning to wonder how she could be so happy at a time like this, he noticed the tear stains on her dark brown cheeks and the messy way in which she had dressed herself. She was still mourning. "How have you been?"  
  
"Oh. You know," she started, but stopped suddenly. "What'd you get? From the will, I mean. Vanessa wouldn't tell me." She said the name "Vanessa" with disdain, throwing a glare over her shoulder at the woman standing behind her.  
  
"I got some stuff," he said. "But that's not important." He looked at the face of the girl he knew so well, the girl who reminded him of his brother, and took her hand. "What do you say we go out for ice cream, just the two of us?" he asked, watching as her beautiful eyes lit up.  
  
"OK!" She ran and grabbed her coat from inside the closet and took his hand, bounding with him to the front door. Before they were completely out of the house, Warrick turned and gave a small wave to Vanessa, who was regarding the two of them with a look that could kill.  
  
  
  
Once seated at a booth in the ice cream shop, Warrick regarded his niece from across the table with affectionate curiosity. She was wearing the typical teenage clothing: A tight white tank top, a baby blue sweatshirt over top, and some faded jeans. On the outside, she looked normal. But on the inside, Warrick knew she was hurting.  
  
"What's it been like living with just Vanessa?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. She shrugged, staring down at her sundae with exaggerated interest.  
  
"It kind of sucks," she said, sighing. "She and I never got along in the five years that she was married to Daddy, but he always stuck up for me. Now he's gone and it's pretty much unbearable. She doesn't know what to do with me, it seems like." She pushed a strand of stray hair behind her ear and looked up at him. "How did you ever stand to be married to her?"  
  
Warrick chose not to answer the question directly. "The same way your dad did."  
  
"My dad was different than you are. He was one of those men who made all the rules, you know?" Her eyes got misty and she bent her head down. "But you're not like that. You just kind of... go with the flow. Especially when it comes to Vanessa."  
  
He stared at her for a few seconds before realizing she was probably right. Nodding, he grabbed her hand and exhaled loudly. "I'm not always like that." He thought of Catherine, how it seemed like he was controlling everything that went on in the house nowadays. The guilt that that brought up was unbearable.  
  
"The other day I was thinking..." She took a bite of her ice cream and let it melt slowly in her mouth. "Both of my parents are dead, and I'm only thirteen. I kind of wondered what my life would be like if my mom hadn't died when she was giving birth to me." The sadness in her face made Warrick want to be able to do something for her, but he knew he couldn't.  
  
"I'm sorry you have to go through this, Arianna," he said softly, watching as the tears slid down her cheeks. His cell phone rang in his pocket, and he frowned before answering it. "Hello?"  
  
"Warrick." The sound of her voice gave away her mood.  
  
"Catherine," he said slowly, trying to think of why she would be angry with him.  
  
"Where the hell are you?!" she demanded, and he heard rustling in the background.  
  
"I'm having ice cream with Arianna," he said, still trying to figure out where he was supposed to be.  
  
"Well, you're an idiot," she said bluntly, and he heard Lindsey's voice in the background. "You forgot to pick up Lindsey from school. She was waiting for half an hour by the front steps!"  
  
Damn. "Shit, I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't tell me, tell Lindsey," Catherine said angrily, and he finally realized she was at home making Lindsey her after-school snack when he heard her ask if she wanted peanut butter or cheese. "You know, it's pretty simple, Warrick. You bring her to school at nine, you take her home at two- thirty. It's not rocket science."  
  
"I'm sorry, it's just that the will-reading took a lot longer than I expected and-" he was about to tell her the good news when she interrupted him.  
  
"Just get your ass over here and apologize to Lindsey. I don't want to hear it. This is the third time you've done this in a month."  
  
Click. She hung up on him. He sighed, looked up at Arianna's puzzled facial expression, and half-smiled. "Trouble at home," he said sheepishly. "It's my job to drive my step-daughter to school and bring her home, and I...forgot." He watched her smirk. "I'm going to have to bring you home now."  
  
She sulked. "Can't I come home with you?"  
  
He shook his head reluctantly. "Trust me, with the fireworks that are going to go on once I get home, you do not want to be there." 


	4. Forgive

Former Choices Chapter Four  
  
  
  
Author's notes: Whoo!!! That's all I have to say right now. Thanks: Once again, only to the lovely reviewers and to Amber, for all the support.  
  
  
  
When Warrick got home he expected a lot of yelling, followed by some things getting thrown as a result of him saying the wrong thing, and then he'd be forced into a corner where he'd undoubtedly make a promise to Catherine that this would "never happen again".  
  
Instead, he got the exact opposite. Slowly he crept through the front door of their spacious home and found his wife by the counter, calmly chopping at some vegetables for dinner. She didn't even look up when he entered the room, just inhaled loudly and said, "She's in her room," in so composed of a voice that Warrick almost thought he might have the wrong house.  
  
He took the hint, that Catherine wasn't ready to talk to him just yet, and walked to Lindsey's room. Loud hip-hop music sailed through the doorway, so he knocked louder than usual and tried to speak above the noise. "Lindsey?" he said, straining to hear anything besides the music.  
  
"Come in!" she yelled, and was turning down her boom box as Warrick opened the door. He sauntered in rather sheepishly and seated himself on her bed. She was clicking away at her computer, her back turned to him as she sat in her pink office chair.  
  
"How was school?" he asked, trying to start up a conversation so he'd have the nerve to bring up his faux-pas. Smoothing down the sheets of her bed, he waited patiently for her to answer. She still wasn't looking at him, but was typing very vigorously into several different instant message boxes.  
  
She finally shrugged, not taking her eyes off the screen. "Fine."  
  
"You're lucky to have a mom who still makes you after-school snacks," he said amiably with a light, fake chuckle, gesturing towards the half-eaten sandwich lying on her desk.  
  
"I'm thirteen, Warrick, not twenty-four," she sneered. Then, seeming to realize just how angry that must have sounded, added in a softer voice, "Besides, she offered."  
  
"No, I know, it was nice of her," he said. "Hey, could you just hold up for a second with the instant messaging or whatever it is you do on there?" He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "I wanted to talk to you about this afternoon."  
  
She swivelled around in her office chair and looked at him with raised eyebrows, looking a little too much like her mother for his liking. "What, you mean when you forgot about me? ...Again?"  
  
He looked down at his shoes and frowned, knowing he deserved that. "I didn't exactly forget about you, it was more like I lost track of time-"  
  
"No, you forgot about me because you were with your niece, or whatever. It's OK, at least it wasn't raining like it was last time, so I stayed dry while I waited on the outside steps for half an hour."  
  
"Lindsey..."  
  
"You know, whatever it is that's going on with you and mom, it's fine that you keep it to yourself because it's a private issue. But then you start fighting, and you're always gone, and now you're hanging out with your brother's family again...it's started to affect me and so I guess it's kind of reasonable that I want to know what the hell is going on."  
  
"Watch it," he said in response to her language. "You're mad, that's OK, Lindsey, just don't swear." She nodded, looking more sad than mad, and picked at the seam of her jeans. "I know you're confused right now, and I'm sorry that I've been neglecting you." He put a finger on her chin and tilted her head to look at him. "You know I'm sorry, right?"  
  
She blinked and nodded, then half-smiled. "Are you ever going to tell me what's happening?" she asked, sounding more like the little child she was when he had first married Catherine than the teenager she was now.  
  
"Someday," he said softly, taking her hand in his. "Just not now. It's hard enough to talk about with your mom. OK?"  
  
"OK. I just have one question," she said, going to sit beside him on the bed. "Why weren't Mom and I allowed to come to your brother's funeral?"  
  
He shook his head slowly and shrugged. "I just didn't want you guys to see me in such a vulnerable state, I guess."  
  
She widened her eyes as she tried to process the meaning of his words. "You mean you didn't want us to see you cry?" she asked, slightly confused.  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"You know, War, you don't always have to be strong," she commented, looking at him in the eye. "Me and mom don't expect you to be like that all the time." When he didn't reply she simply rolled her eyes. "I get, it's a man thing, right?"  
  
He chuckled and left the room.  
  
  
  
He walked into the kitchen, feeling a little more brave than before, and stood beside Catherine while she busied herself cutting up more carrots than they would ever need for one meal. "Hey," she said softly.  
  
"Hey," she replied, a little gruffer than he had hoped. "How did it go?" Her knife sliced a carrot in half with a loud "crunch".  
  
"Good, I think. She's not mad anymore, but she's back to calling me by my first name." When his words didn't seem to affect Catherine at all, he moved closer to her so he was facing her side. She continued to chop carrots like she was born doing it. "Stop," he said, putting a hand on hers, ceasing the motion.  
  
She sighed, pretending to be annoyed, and turned to face him. "What?"  
  
"I hate it when you're mad at me," he said, pushing a strand of her hair away from her face and behind her ear. "What can I do to make you forgive me?"  
  
"Is Lindsey still mad?"  
  
He frowned, knowing he had already told her that. "No, I said already that she wasn't. I apologized." She shrugged, putting down the knife that was in her hand.  
  
"Promise you won't do this again?" she asked, moving her face closer to his and breathing against him.  
  
He nodded, speechless from the closeness of her body to his. He wrapped his arms around her waist and, deciding to push his luck, inched even closer.  
  
"Then I forgive you," she said, her voice breathy, and she leaned in to kiss him slowly. "I wasn't about to, but you're so damn sexy."  
  
He chuckled. "Same goes for you."  
  
"Yeah, I know," she said, grinning. "That's why you love me." 


	5. Celebrate

Former Choices Chapter Five  
  
  
  
Ahhh! Sorry this one took so long, guys! It's been a busy day in the world of school and I just haven't had time. But I promise the next chapter won't take nearly as long.  
  
  
  
Warrick awoke to the soft light shining through his bedroom window and smiled, remembering the events of the night before. Catherine was draped casually over top of him, her head resting on his chest and her hand tugging slightly on the fabric of his pajamas in her sleep. He glanced at the beside clock. Sitting up a bit he kissed the top of her head, watching as she stirred slightly but promptly fell right back to sleep. "Catherine..." he whispered, and smiled as she groaned and rolled off of him so she was lying fully on the bed.  
  
He sat up. "I have to go bring Lindsey to school," he said, watching as she held her head and blinked a couple of times.  
  
"Damn it, I've got a hangover," she cursed softly under her breath, then moved so she was lying on her stomach and put the pillow over her head.  
  
"Yeah well, we drank a bit last night," he mused, covering her up with blankets and setting the pillow back where lay originally.  
  
Looking at him in disgust she tried to grab it back. She snorted. "A bit? What are you, the king of understatements?" She held her head in pain and winced, pulling the covers over her chin. "It was a nice celebration, though..."  
  
Warrick grinned. "Oh yes, it certainly was." He reached down to kiss her on the crown of her head before pulling on some pants and a shirt.  
  
"What are we gonna do with all that money?" she asked softly, her eyes lighting up.  
  
"You asked me the same thing last night and I told you 'whatever you want to do with it.'" he said, strapping his watch around his wrist and looking down at her. She giggled with glee and rubbed her hands together. "Do you want me to bring you an antacid or a Tylenol or anything before I leave?"  
  
She shook her head. "Warrick, three hours of sleep isn't nearly enough to drive on. Who thought of the idea of driving Lindsey to school every morning, anyhow?" she asked, holding her stomach.  
  
"You did," he said simply, frowning down at her. "You just lay here and sleep, I'll be fine."  
  
She nodded slowly, then looked up at him with bright shiny eyes. "Thanks, Warrick. For last night, I mean. It's nice for it to be just the two of us sometimes." He reached down to kiss her goodbye and left.  
  
  
  
Warrick and Catherine arrived at shift together later that night and walked straight to the rest of the team so they could get their assignments for the night. Grissom greeted them softly with a wave and a smile as usual.  
  
"You guys look like you drank a little bit more than everybody else at dinner last night," he mused, running his eyes over their ragged appearances.  
  
"We've been sleeping and throwing up all day," Catherine told him, and smiled. "You left the party a little early last night, though. What were you up to?"  
  
"Oh," Grissom said, shrugging. "I was happy for you guys, getting all that money, but those celebrations really aren't for me." His eyes moved toward Warrick and suddenly he became sympathetic. "How are you doing, Warrick?"  
  
"I'm getting there."  
  
"I'm sorry about your brother," Sara said, suddenly appearing behind Grissom's shoulder and smiling slightly. With a nod from Warrick, she changed the subject. "And I'm sorry I couldn't make it last night after shift. I had some shitty paperwork stuff to catch up on."  
  
"No problem," Catherine said, running a hand over her face. "Let's get to work. Where's Nicky?"  
  
Grissom smiled. "He asked for the night off. I gave it to him, because we've only got one case."  
  
"You mean shift might end before three today?"  
  
Grissom looked at Sara, who had asked the question, and enigmatically replied, "We'll see."  
  
  
  
After shift was over, Catherine walked into the break room to grab her jacket and saw Warrick looking over a stack of files. She walked up to him and put an arm around his waist, kissing his cheek. "Ready to go?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah, sure," he replied, taking his eyes off the papers and looking her in the face.  
  
"I thought we could grab a bite to eat before we go back to the house." She seemed unusually hopeful, and he smiled.  
  
"Sounds great. From where?"  
  
"Wherever you wanna go, I chose last time," she reminded him, leaning a little farther into his side and enjoying the feel of the warmth of his skin sinking into hers.  
  
"Cool." He stared at her a few seconds more before saying, "I've got to go visit Arianna this afternoon." Her face fell, just like he had expected.  
  
"Why? I was going to surprise you with a picnic or something."  
  
"You hate picnics." He tried to figure out if she was serious or not.  
  
"I know," she told him, "But you love them. So I thought we could go to the park with Lindsey and just hang out. I was even going to fry chicken, or whatever it is they eat on picnics."  
  
He chuckled. "I'm sorry, babe, but I promised her I'd take her to the fair. You and Lindsey can come along, if you want." Catherine just raised an eyebrow. "OK, well, I'll try and get back as soon as I can."  
  
"If I find out that Vanessa went with you, I'm going to be very unhappy."  
  
"Cut me some slack, Catherine. She's the only part of my brother I've got left, alright? I missed out on five years of her life."  
  
"You didn't seem too worried about that before your brother died, even when I tried my hardest to get you to visit him. After we found out he had cancer, remember that?"  
  
He looked away and stared at the ground. "Catherine, just leave it alone."  
  
She just nodded, taking her arms from around him and put them at her sides. "Let's skip dinner and just go home. I'm tired." He sighed and walked to the door. 


	6. First Instances of Jealousy

Former Choices Chapter Six  
  
Whee! It's finally here! Please R&R  
  
  
  
Knocking on the door of the mansion that now belonged to Vanessa, Warrick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It seemed like every time he mentioned Arianna or Vanessa to Catherine, she became more and more distant toward him. He loved his wife but he didn't think she was justified in the way that she was acting. And besides, he loved spending time with his niece. And maybe even with his ex-wife.  
  
Vanessa answered the door and smiled at the sight of him in her doorway. "Come in, Warrick. Arianna isn't back from band practice just yet." Off the look he gave her she threw him a charming grin and said, "I'll keep you company."  
  
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm afraid of," he muttered.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, I didn't catch that, what did you say?" He just shook his head so she began walking down one of the many long hallways of the house until they got to what he thought must have been the living room. "You want a drink?" she asked, gesturing towards the bar.  
  
"No, thanks, I've got to drive your daughter to the fair in about fifteen minutes." He regarded her with a cool, responsible look, and her smile disappeared.  
  
"First of all, she's my step-daughter. Second of all..." she stopped, confusion seeping through her voice as the light dove through the split in the curtains. "Never mind." He watched as she walked calmly to the couch and sat down. Patting the space beside her, she smiled again. "Sit down."  
  
"How are...things?" He didn't know why the sentence had been so awkward for him, but sitting beside her on the sofa and feeling her warm breath on his neck wasn't making it easy to talk to her.  
  
"Um..." She hesitated at answering, searching her mind for the right phrasing. "It's hard, but we're dealing with it as best we can. At least I am. Arianna's...not." She dipped her head to look at the floor beneath her feet. "She's very distant and she's always crying...I don't really know how to go about comforting her."  
  
Warrick didn't know what to say.  
  
"You seem to know her better than I do, which is funny because you only saw her once in the five years that I've known her. You'd think she'd trust me more than you." He just nodded because he still didn't know what to say to her. "I just want to talk to her but she won't let me."  
  
"Well, you have to remember," Warrick said softly, taking her hand in his. "You lost a husband, but Arianna lost a father."  
  
Just then they heard a knock at the door. Vanessa threw him a puzzled look and said, "Jeffrey, there's someone at the door." Her butler appeared almost instantly and opened the door, greeting Catherine with formal politeness.  
  
"Catherine..." Warrick let go of Vanessa's hand and stood, observing her tired and ragged form. "What are you doing here?"  
  
The shocked look on her face betrayed how she saw the situation. "Where the hell is Arianna? I thought you guys would be at the fair by now!"  
  
"Arianna's at band practice. She should be home momentarily," Vanessa answered softly, and smiled. "There was nothing going on here, Mrs. Brown, if that's what you think."  
  
Catherine was not even looking at Vanessa, only regarding Warrick with angry disgust. "We got a call in to work, Warrick. Triple homicide, day shift needs our help. All hands on deck." Her voice was uneven, bumpy, and it stumbled along the words with truly un-Catherine like awkwardness. "Are you coming with me or will you drive yourself?"  
  
Warrick just nodded and grabbed his coat, opening the door for his wife and then turning to look at Vanessa one last time before he exited the house. What he saw shocked him. She was grinning from ear to ear.  
  
  
  
Catherine's silence in the car only made Warrick more worried. She was never quiet when she was mad, in fact she was usually the exact opposite. It was when she was trying not to cry that she was quiet, and with that realization he knew he had to explain himself, whether she would respond or not.  
  
"Catherine, I know what it seemed like in there," he said huskily, turning off the radio. "But I swear, nothing was going on."  
  
"OK." Her voice was quiet, so unlike her.  
  
"What?" Taken off guard by her easy agreement, he moved his ear closer to her face and waited for her to say it again.  
  
"I know that you and Vanessa weren't doing anything. I saw it in your face the minute I walked in." He frowned, so she continued, sweeping one of her hands across her face and keeping the other on the steering wheel. "No guilt." Smiling slightly, she said, "I've learned how to read a guilty husband's face."  
  
He exhaled loudly. "Then why the act?"  
  
She shrugged. "I wanted to hear you say it." She turned toward him and smiled a little. "I know you would never do something like that to me, Warrick. I mean, I have to admit, I've become a little suspicious of you these past few days..." The emotion returned to her voice suddenly. "I just don't trust that woman. Why were you with her?"  
  
"I thought Arianna would be done band practice. If I had known that I was going to have to spend ten minutes with Vanessa, I would have stayed outside." He smiled. "I don't like her any more than you do." He felt bad for lying, but Catherine needed to be able to trust him around Vanessa if he was going to spend more time with Arianna.  
  
"And the hand-holding?" Warrick suddenly felt that maybe Catherine didn't trust him as much as she said she did.  
  
"I..." He wasn't quite sure how to answer that one. "She's...lost a husband. I was just...comforting her."  
  
Catherine nodded, her mouth in a straight line. "You're going to stay away from her from now on, right?"  
  
He couldn't tell by her voice if she was asking him or telling him, but either way it didn't matter. "I'll do the best that I can, but I want to spend time with Arianna..."  
  
Her foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, and her hand gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Just promise me you won't..."  
  
"I won't."  
  
Catherine nodded again, breathing deeply.  
  
Warrick frowned. "Just out of curiosity, why do you hate her so much?" he asked. "I mean, I know she hurt me but...that was a long time ago."  
  
She shook her head. "It's not just that. Warrick, do you remember the night...we had been married for about three weeks. We were both standing in Lindsey's doorway together, watching her sleep. I had my head on your shoulder, and you were telling me about Vanessa. You told me that she had hurt you more than anybody else in the world." Her eyes locked with his. "What do you feel when you think of Eddie, Warrick?"  
  
He winced. "Bastard," he muttered. The anger rose inside of him just at the mention of Catherine's ex-husband's name. She nodded. "Now you know how I feel whenever you mention Vanessa." 


	7. The One That Keeps Us Together

Former Choices Chapter Seven Marita Linde  
  
Author's notes: I don't really know what grade Lindsey is in. I know she's thirteen in the story, and nine on the show. Over here a nine year- old would be in the fourth grade, but on the episode 'The Execution of Catherine Willows", Cat said she was only in the second. So that threw me off track a bit. So if I'm wrong, I apologize. Thanks: Thank you to days off school and the wonderful readers, for reviewing so much!  
  
  
  
Warrick had stayed late at work that night to finish up on some paperwork for one of his cases. Catherine had gotten a ride with Sara over an hour ago to Vanessa's house to pick up his car. He knew he should probably call it a night, it was getting late and he didn't want to make his wife or Lindsey worry.  
  
He punched out and walked to his car, noting the way the night sky was breaking open to make way for the early-morning sun. He ran a hand through his unruly curls, organizing his thoughts.  
  
In the last three years of their marriage, he had seen Catherine give up so much of herself that it scared him. He had always known he was to blame for this, but he was tired of feeling guilty about it. The fire she had possessed when they first met was nearly gone now. The only time she showed true passion about something was when she was angry with him. Even their lovemaking, something Warrick had always considered safe, had fallen short of what it used to be.  
  
She was reaching out for something that she needed, something Warrick wasn't sure he knew how to give her.  
  
He pulled up to the house and saw that all the lights were off. He was glad Catherine was sleeping, she had seemed tired and rundown tonight at work, and she needed to be well-rested in order to do the job right.  
  
He quietly opened the door of the house and closed it behind him. Looking around he saw that he was the only one awake. Every single light was turned off except for the oven light in the kitchen, which was glowing on a low setting. Warrick walked over to turn it off but then saw a note on the counter top beside the oven.  
  
Warrick,  
  
I got tired of waiting up so I went to bed. Parent/teacher interviews tomorrow night at seven. I'm going shopping tomorrow with Lindsey, probably all day. I'll be up before you, so see you at six. I want to get to the school early for the interviews.  
  
Catherine.  
  
He sighed. No "I love you" or an invitation for him to come along shopping. Just a short little note so he wouldn't worry himself sick tomorrow wondering where the hell she'd gone.  
  
He didn't feel like sleeping just yet so he sauntered over to the door of Lindsey's room, putting his ear against it and listening. Nothing. She had to be sleeping. But just to make sure, he eased the door open quietly and saw her lying on her huge pink bed, bundled up with covers and breathing softly. For a few minutes he watched the way her chest rose and fell, wishing he could stay there and watch her until morning. She was so beautiful, and for the hundredth time he wished they were closer.  
  
He finally decided to go to sleep. Sighing, he slipped into his and Catherine's bedroom and started to undress. He didn't think to check the bed, just assumed that she'd be sleeping, so he jumped about two feet out of surprise when he heard her voice from across the room.  
  
"Warrick," she said simply. His eyes jerked over to where the sound had come from. She was sitting on a chair beside the window wearing a bathrobe and looking very, very tired. "Sorry," she said, seeing the shocked expression on his face.  
  
"No, it's OK, I just thought you'd be sleeping." He walked over to her wearing a t-shirt and his boxers and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"  
  
She didn't say anything, didn't move, just stared up into his face with a look in her eyes that made him want to cry. He squatted on the ground beside her chair and took her hands in his, brushing a strand of hair away from her face and trying not to overreact. "What's wrong, Cat?"  
  
She shook her head and then rested it against his chest, breathing heavily, fighting tears. "What's wrong with us, Warrick? Why don't we know how to be happy anymore?"  
  
He didn't have an answer for that. He didn't know what to say or do, but he knew that she was right. It had been so long since they had been truly happy that they had forgotten how to act when they were. He sighed, slowly, letting his exhaling breath stir the hair on her head. "I don't know," he said finally, and held her tighter.  
  
"I'm scared, Warrick. Scared that we won't be able to fix this." He knew it had taken her a lot to be able to admit that she was afraid, so he pulled her head off of his chest and rested his palm against her tear- stained cheek.  
  
"I am, too. But we can. We will." He didn't even know if he believed it. All he knew is that he wanted that pained look in her face to go away, and soon. "Come on," he said, grabbing her hand. "Let's get some rest and we'll talk about this in the morning, when our minds are clear, alright?" She nodded, and he led her to the bed, watching as she slipped daintily under the covers after taking off her bathrobe. He made sure everything but her head was totally covered with blankets, grinning back at her when she smiled up at him like a little kid. He kissed her forehead, said goodnight, but it felt empty, like it wasn't enough.  
  
Laying against the sheets of the bed, feeling their coldness seep through his skin, he felt a chill come over him. It started in his toes and traveled all the way up to his eyes, making him want to reach out for her. What if they couldn't fix this? What if they messed up, didn't try hard enough? Or what if they tried as hard as they could and it still didn't help? He shivered, reached out for her hand and whispered, "I love you."  
  
When she didn't answer he frowned, trying not to be hurt at her lack of response. After all, she hadn't said it to him in almost three months. He turned toward her side of the bed, wanting to ask her if his gesture had meant anything to her, if his attempt at a step forward had helped at all. Then he saw her eyes closed and heard the sound of her even breathing. Instead of softly kissing her one last time before the morning, he rested his hand against her arm and let the warmth of her skin seep into his. Hoping it would make the chill go away.  
  
  
  
Warrick straightened out his tie and sighed, looking in the mirror one last time before starting for the door. Catherine yelled at him from the hallway to get going, so he exited the bedroom and walked out to the kitchen where she was waiting, purse slung over her shoulder, wearing his sunglasses.  
  
"Ready?" she asked him, her eyebrows raised.  
  
"Yeah," he said, eyeing her carefully. "You look good."  
  
"Thanks," she said absent-mindedly, and walked to where Lindsey was standing by the counter, watching them both with a smirk on her face. "Be good, baby," she told her daughter.  
  
Lindsey nodded. "You guys know you're not going to hear anything bad from my teachers, you have nothing to be nervous about."  
  
"Well," Warrick started, "We know you have straight A's but we don't know how you behave." Lindsey waved a hand in front of her face in dismissal and motioned toward the door.  
  
"Right," Catherine said, her voice tense, "We're going."  
  
  
  
They arrived at Lindsey's science classroom just in time for the interview. Her teacher, Mr. Bottomley, was waiting at his desk when they walked in. Catherine entered first, swiping off his sunglasses and handing them to Warrick over her shoulder when he arrived behind her. Looking behind her, she scowled and said, "Straighten out your tie."  
  
Mr. Bottomley had stood and was watching them as they walked in. Two people, one a little younger than the other, of different races, not touching at all, scowling at each other... He could feel the tension in the room already. He forced a smile on his face and held out a hand.  
  
"Mr. Bottomley," he said cordially. Catherine and Warrick smiled.  
  
"Catherine Willows." "Warrick Brown."  
  
They went through the motions of the interview. Mr. Bottomley told Warrick and Catherine how Lindsey was doing in school, about her countless number of A's, etc. Then he rested his hands on the table and looked at them with a serious expression on his face. "Now that I see you here together, I wanted to ask...Is having parents who are separated affecting Lindsey at all, emotionally?"  
  
Catherine frowned. "What, you mean Eddie?"  
  
Mr. Bottomley shook his head. "I was referring to you and Mr. Brown, Ms. Willows." The couple widened their eyes. Warrick coughed uncomfortably.  
  
"I...you must be mistaken. Warrick and I are married." The teacher's face shone with surprise. His cheeks turned crimson. " I just...sometimes I introduce myself with my maiden name..." She shook her head, embarrassment and shame showing on her face. Warrick shuffled his feet.  
  
"Oh my..." Mr. Bottomley cleared his throat. "I am truly sorry, it's just-"  
  
"The name. The way she introduced herself," Warrick broken in, not wanting him to say the real reason he had made the mistake: because he and Catherine acted like a separated couple in public.  
  
Mr. Bottomley looked at him in the eyes for a few seconds before nodding hesitantly. "Yes, yes, of course, that's what did it."  
  
Catherine stood and brushed off her dress pants. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Bottomley. I assume the interview is...over?" The teacher nodded, and Catherine turned to face Warrick. They eyed each other with mutual embarrassment.  
  
As they walked out of the room Mr. Bottomley threw another apology at them. Catherine said goodbye to him quietly while Warrick held the door open for her. Once inside the car Catherine blew out her breath loudly and ran her fingers through her hair. "I can honestly say that's the worst parent/teacher meeting I've ever been to."  
  
"What do you think the other teachers are going to do when they find out we skipped their meetings?" Warrick asked, not wanting to address the real problem.  
  
Catherine shrugged. "They can shove it. I wanna go home." 


	8. When She Was Me

Former Choices Chapter Eight  
  
Thanks: To everyone for waiting so long! Hey, please R&R, maybe I'll write faster that way, you never know!  
  
  
  
Three days later Warrick came home from bringing Lindsey to school and saw Catherine sitting on the couch, the phone pressed to her ear and a thoughtful expression on her face. He threw a small wave in her direction and made his way into the kitchen to get a drink. The softness of her voice floated across the room and he didn't bother to listen to it until he heard,  
  
"7:00 tonight at Brickman's Psychology Center? We'll be there." He swung around to look at her as she was hanging up the phone.  
  
"'We'?" His question was directed straight at her, but she looked down at the ground as if she expected the answer to come from there.  
  
Catherine nodded slightly. "You and I, yes."  
  
Suspicion crawled up his neck and hit him full in the face. "Why are we going to Brickman's?" He suspected the worse.  
  
"I signed us up for some couple's counseling."  
  
"Without asking me first?" he asked, almost angrily, and drank down the glass of orange juice he was holding in one breath.  
  
"I didn't think you'd mind," Catherine said slowly, eyeing him with only the slightest tinge of guilt. "I know they only hold them Wednesday evenings, and if I didn't call now we wouldn't get in for this week." Looking him directly in the eye she took a ragged breath. "We need this, Warrick. Just admit it."  
  
He brought his left arm up to scratch the shoulder of his right and slowly sighed. "You should have asked me first. You can't just do stuff like this without asking me first, Cath."  
  
"Warrick," she started, walking up closer to him, her eyes closed.  
  
He shook his head. "I don't need some doctor telling me what's wrong with this marriage. We can fix this on our own Catherine. A stranger isn't going to help it go any faster."  
  
Her face tensed up and she pressed two fingers against her forehead. "Warrick, I'm not going to let this marriage turn out like my last one."  
  
He felt like he had just been shot. Even during their biggest fights, she had never even come close to comparing him to Eddie, unless it was to tell him how different he was from him. He had strived for the past three years to treat her like the queen that she was, the queen that Eddie had never seen, but it had become harder and harder.  
  
He stared at her for about ten seconds before blinking and saying, "What?"  
  
"Eddie used to say the same thing. 'We can fix this ourselves.'" She was breathing heavily, and she put a hand to her chest and collapsed on the chair behind her. "But he and I couldn't. And what if you and I can't, either? What if we stay like this for another three years, and then another three years, because you're too stubborn to get help from somebody else?"  
  
He didn't say anything for a while, just watched her as she stared up at him from her place across the room from him. He took a ragged breath and said the words he had always hoped could fix everything. "I love you, Catherine-"  
  
"It's not enough, Warrick. Not this time."  
  
  
  
Catherine was driving Lindsey home from voice lessons a couple days later. Lindsey was playing with her hair, fluffing it up one side and leaving it flat on the other, and laughing at her reflection.  
  
"Hey mom, you got any lip gloss?" Catherine pulled out the stick of Revlon from her pocket and handed it to her. "Thanks."  
  
"So how's that new Celine Dion song going?" Catherine asked lightly, attempting at conversation. She had heard her daughter singing it at lessons when she came to pick her up and had thought she had sounded beautiful, but she had to remind herself that she was biased.  
  
Lindsey shrugged. "It's nice, but it's awful high." She inspected her reflection in the her little compact mirror. "I like this colour of gloss, it's pretty."  
  
Catherine looked over to check how much she had put on. It did look pretty, it was a nice pink that matched the rosiness of Lindsey's cheeks and her little top. She was wearing the jeans that Catherine had almost thrown out last week because they were so tight, but the two had made a compromise.  
  
"I can keep the jeans if you can keep raiding my closet whenever you need something cool to wear," Lindsey had said, and the discussion had ended there. Warrick had reminded her that it wasn't exactly the most motherly choice, but Catherine had made a face and declared,  
  
"I can give in sometimes, can't I?"  
  
Lindsey broke into her thoughts with a direct question that seemed to come out of nowhere. "So you and Dad are going to marriage counseling tonight?"  
  
Catherine's head shot back and she pursed her lips. "Uh, how did you find that out?"  
  
"Mom," she said, beleaguered, and rolled her eyes. "I'm not deaf. I heard you guys fighting about it last night." She went to turn the radio down and stared at her mother's profile in the low light of the Mercedes. "I wanna know about this kind of stuff, like about your marriage and all that. You're my parents and I think I deserve to know."  
  
Catherine sighed. "Warrick's not exactly your father, Linds." She turned the car left and kept her eyes on the road. "Just because Eddie moved away, doesn't mean he isn't your dad anymore."  
  
Lindsey spun around and stared out the window. "He's not my father. Fathers don't do that kind of crap to their daughters."  
  
"Watch your language." She said it automatically, without thinking, and caught her daughter's scowl out of the corner of her eye. "I know it's hard to see your dad move away and-"  
  
"And forget my birthday. Twice. And not send me anything in the mail, not reply to my letters, my e-mails. What the f-..." She stopped herself. "...heck is his problem, anyway? I'm his daughter. He's supposed to love me enough to stop being a loser for once and pull his head out of his-"  
  
"All right, that's enough," Catherine snapped, and rested her hand on Lindsey's comfortingly. "He might be acting like sort of a moron right now, but he's still your father, and you don't say things like that about your father, OK?" Lindsey nodded roughly, and Catherine caught the tears spilling down her cheeks. "Oh, baby."  
  
"Can you blame me for liking Warrick better? He's nice, and sweet, and cool, not to mention pretty cute." Catherine snorted. "It's not gross for me to say that, mom, because he is."  
  
"Oh, I quite agree," Catherine said, and looked at her daughter, waiting for her to say more.  
  
"He always remembers my birthday and he's so sweet to you. Sometimes he kisses you for no reason, just because he wants to. Jamie's dad never does that to her mom, and Eddie never did that to you." Catherine winced when she heard her call her father by his first name, but said nothing. "And I know you guys are having problems right now but I also know you can like, sort it out, because you love each other and all that stuff and people who love each other are always looking for improvement, anyhow." She turned to her mother and forced a small little smile. "Right, mom?"  
  
"Right," Catherine said shortly, keeping her voice happy. "You're totally right, sweety. You wanna get a doughnut or something?" Lindsey nodded. "So, you know Warrick and I are having problems, but you're OK with it?"  
  
"You could fight less, but that's my own fault because I eavesdrop." Catherine wondered fleetingly if she had heard their fight last night, but didn't ask. "Wanna hear some advice?"  
  
"Sure, hit me with it." She pulled into the doughnut shop and killed the engine of the car, looking Lindsey full in her beautiful face.  
  
"I don't think you guys know each other well enough. Like cause...I was reading this book once, where this couple, they kept saying they had forgotten how to love each other or something...and then I heard you say once how you don't know how to fix this, so then I was thinking maybe the problem is you don't know each other well enough to know to know how to fix it, to know how to love each other when the times get tough, you know what I'm saying?"  
  
Her daughter's speech was so incredibly true that it nearly knocked Catherine off of her feet. Such true, simple innocence, she thought to herself, and felt like crying.  
  
"So maybe you should just get to know each other, because I've been noticing you don't spend an awful lot of time together, so maybe if you just did small things, then you could figure out how you react to stuff, and then know how it's triggered...am I making any sense?"  
  
Catherine just nodded.  
  
"So then you could avoid those small things that trigger the fights and you could just be happy instead of fighting." Lindsey took a deep breath and exhaled, drumming her fingers on the dashboard. "Anyways, I just read that in a book once. I've been actually reading up a lot on couples and stuff, because Rick asked me to go the banquet with him last week, and I don't really know what to tell him because Jamie told me he just wants to have sex with me, so-"  
  
"What?!" Catherine's eyes bulged. "He wants to have what with you?!" 


	9. Under the Mistletoe

Former Choices Chapter Nine  
  
I would once again like to say sorry this took so long, and thank you to all the reviewers who said such nice things about this story! I hope you like this chapter, feel free to tell me if you don't, and I'm up for any ideas on what should happen in the next few chapters. Oh, and this chapter continues really closely to the last one, so I hope no one's confused.  
  
"Oh Mom, don't freak out," Lindsey said teasingly. "It's not like I would actually go out and have it with him. I mean, that's just gross. I'm waiting until I'm at least seventeen."  
  
She knew she couldn't hope for much more, but Catherine decided to butt in, anyways. "Seventeen? I don't know, the average age is still twenty. Why don't you wait until you're twenty?"  
  
Lindsey giggled, seemingly glad to have gotten a rise out of her mother. "How old were you when you...you know...."  
  
Catherine smiled at her daughter's question. "I haven't yet. Warrick and I just started kissing last week."  
  
"Moooom." Loud teenage giggles erupted from Lindsey's side of the car. "Seriously, mom."  
  
"I was a lot younger than I should have been, that's for sure. Seventeen. I ran away from home and moved in with my boyfriend. It was a bad choice, one that, if I ever got the chance, I wouldn't make again." She felt a little dizzy telling all of this to Lindsey, her thirteen year-old daughter, but it was a good dizzy.  
  
"What about marrying dad? Is that a choice you regret?" Lindsey asked. Then, wiping the grin of her face she said murkily, "Eddie, I mean."  
  
Catherine frowned. "Of course not, honey. That would mean I wouldn't have you, and you're the best choice I ever made." She rested a palm on her daughter's cheek and felt her smile, a little sigh deflating her skinny, child-like shoulders.  
  
"Tell me about when you and Warrick first met." Lindsey asked, suddenly.  
  
"Well, when we first met it was nothing special. It was for work, I was all business, he was all business, but I can tell you what he was wearing." Lindsey giggled, waiting patiently for Catherine to continue. "A black button-up shirt and jeans..."  
  
Lindsey reached forward and turned the radio off. "When did you guys get together?"  
  
"Six long years later, baby. His shirt was only buttoned up halfway and his hair was longer and I just couldn't resist him anymore. We-"  
  
"OK, mom, enough information." Lindsey held up a hand and laughed as Catherine shrugged and pulled into the driveway. "So, are you going to take my advice about you and Warrick, or not?" She looked so hopeful, it was adorable.  
  
"Sure, sweetie, it couldn't hurt." The smile Lindsey gave her in return told Catherine that she definitely had something up her sleeve.  
  
  
  
Catherine and Warrick were driving home from couples counseling the next night. The moon was full and the air had a special smell to it that made the whole evening seem very romantic. However, romance was the last thing on their minds.  
  
"You think I don't care about your needs?" Catherine asked, her eyes fiery red under the glow of the small light in the car.  
  
Warrick nodded. "Not intentionally, Cath, just...I don't know....you're a little too harsh." As usual, he was trying to stay calm. He could see that Catherine was trying to forget what he had said and make it out like it was nothing.  
  
"Okay..." She took a deep breath in and rolled her shoulders. "The therapist told us not to fight about what we discovered about each other during counseling. So, Warrick, in the future I will try not to be so harsh."  
  
"Thank you for being so understanding, babe," he said, and grabbed her hand, giving it a tight squeeze.  
  
They pulled into the driveway. As soon as Catherine got out, she walked up to Warrick and said, "Now, about your-" but stopped when she saw the inside of the house. "None of the lights are on. Could Lindsey have gone to bed already?"  
  
Warrick shrugged. "Maybe she was tired," he said, opening the unlocked door and walking inside, Catherine in tow. He hung up his coat on the hook and reached for hers, watching as she smiled in silent surprise.  
  
"Thanks," she said, her eyes betraying the thoughts that were swarming around in her mind. She reached for his hand and tugged him into the living room.  
  
When they walked in the door, Catherine gasped and put a hand over her mouth. Warrick remained silent, surveying his surroundings with shocked interest. He let go of her hand and walked farther into the room, looking down at the lit candles on the coffee table. "Did you do this?" he asked her, but she only shook her head. "Did you do this?" she asked him, but his response was the same: wide- eyed denial. She looked around, watching as the dozens of candles scattered around the room flickered and cast a low light on the walls. Two steaming meals of spaghetti were sitting on the coffee table, along with two matching glasses of wine. The mistletoe that Catherine had hung in the front doorway was now in the living room doorway, and in the background there was soft, romantic music playing. Catherine grinned and shook her head. "Lindsey," she said simply, and walked over to where Warrick was now sitting on the couch, sniffing his spaghetti with interest.  
  
"Yeah, I figured," he replied, putting his arm around Catherine's waist. "She's probably in bed now, pretending to be asleep."  
  
"I doubt that," Catherine said with suspicion, and moved to the kitchen where, sure enough, she found a note from Lindsey saying she was staying over at a friend's house for the night. She walked back to Warrick, waving the note in front of his face. "Leann's..." she said simply, and Warrick grinned.  
  
"Did you know spaghetti is my favourite meal?" Warrick asked, eyeing his plate with interest.  
  
"Of course I knew that," Catherine replied. "Now let's just hope Lindsey is as good of a cook as I am." Warrick grunted, Catherine laughed.  
  
They sat down by the coffee table and began digging into their dinners. Warrick groaned when the spaghetti did, in fact, prove to be as good as Catherine's. "Doesn't she know we have romantic dinners like this all the time?" he teased.  
  
Catherine laughed. "Oh yeah," she said sarcastically, "We're always eating in the candlelight with music and mistletoe." She reached a hand across the table and rested it on top of his, staring him in the eyes. "I want to thank you for being so understanding tonight at counseling. I was a real bitch, wasn't I?"  
  
Warrick frowned. "What are you talking about? You were right, about everything."  
  
"Well, I know that," Catherine said casually, and watched as a grin spread out across his face. "Seriously, I didn't have to be so...harsh."  
  
He stroked her hand. "Hey, it's alright," he said softly, and leaned forward to plant a kiss on her temple. "We're really getting better at this, aren't we?"  
  
"Yeah," Catherine said, smiling. "We are." 


	10. If I Didn't Have You

Former Choices  
Chapter Ten  
  
Author's notes: This story is now complete! I just want to thank all the people who were very patient and waited for the chapters to be done, and also Amber for making these last few weeks mean more than they would have normally, and Laura and Adina and Meg, just because all three of you are amazing. Oh, and Amanda Marshall.  
  
  
  
Her skirt was short and black, its skintight material clinging to her legs and leaving very little to the imagination. As she approached him he caught sight of the high slit on the left side of it and her dark, smooth skin spilling out of the absence of fabric just enough to make his eyes widen.  
  
"Hey, Warrick," she said, her voice low, and took a seat beside him. His heart pounding, he cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, pretending not to notice that he was seeing more of her legs than he had dared to think about in a long time. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice."  
  
"You said there was a problem with Arianna," Warrick reminded her, his eyes shifting from object to object around the large room. "So where is she?"  
  
Vanessa pouted. "You don't want to talk to me?" She let go of a small smile and he watched guiltily as it spread across her full lips. "I got all dressed up for nothing, then."  
  
He wouldn't take the opportunity to let his eyes run over her outfit again. "Where's Arianna?" he repeated, growing more uncomfortable.  
  
She frowned and pointed toward the staircase. "She's in her room. Like I said on the phone, she won't come out, and she's been in there almost the whole day." Her eyes locked with his in a look he knew all too well. "I knew I could count on you to help."  
  
"I'll do whatever I can, but I'm not making any promises," he told her, moving to the stairs, trying not to notice how she followed him.  
  
"I'm just no good at this mother thing," Vanessa said, running a hand through her hair. She climbed the stairs alongside him, and he knew that if he looked a couple of inches to the left, once again her mostly-bare legs would be staring back at him.   
  
Climbing the last step, he turned to face her and spoke. "Did you really dress that way for me?" His tone was inexpressive, but she immediately took the question the wrong way.  
  
"I sure did," she said coyly, and moved toward him, but he swivelled around and walked up to Arianna's door before she could touch him.   
Trying the handle, he realized the door was locked. "Arianna?" he called, knocking furiously, "It's Uncle Warrick, could you please open the door?"  
  
  
  
No answer.   
  
He shook his head, then knocked again. "Arianna, come on, please let me in."  
  
Her voice seemed to slip under the door and its high-pitched, angry sound made Warrick wince. "No! I don't want anybody else in here, just leave me alone!"  
  
He turned to Vanessa. "What did you do?" he asked her quietly, his face betraying how close to anger he was.   
  
She shrugged. "I didn't do anything, I swear. She just came home from school and went up to her bedroom and she won't come out." She looked at him more closely. "I've got a key for this door, we could always unlock it."  
  
His left eyebrow climbed. "Let's wait a while longer before we do that, give her some privacy." He guided her by the small of her back to the stairwell.   
  
"Okay. Want a drink while you're waiting?"  
  
  
Later they were seated in the living room, sipping red wine from tall champagne glasses. Warrick's legs were crossed, and he was leaning back comfortably in a huge winged-back chair. Vanessa was staring intently at Warrick, her eyes fixed on some spot on his sweater.  
  
The alcohol had given Warrick a kind of buzz, so he set his glass down and ran his fingers through his hair. "What time is it?" he murmured, mostly to himself, and glanced at his watch. Vanessa inched closer to him on the coach. His heart thumping, he tried not to notice the rich colour of her skin or the sweet way she smelled.  
  
Then, suddenly, her breath was in his ear and she was whispering, "Are you going to leave, Warrick?" Her hand slowly went to his arm and the hairs she touched felt like they were on fire. He closed his eyes. He stopped thinking until her hand moved to his leg.  
  
He stood, faced her, and stared. "I'm not that man anymore, Vanessa," he said. As he moved toward the door his hands were shaking, and he almost jumped when she spoke.  
  
"Come on, Warrick, just once. She doesn't have to know."  
  
He shook his head, his back still to her. "Life's too short, Vanessa, and I love her too much." When she sighed, he looked at her and said quietly, "I'm not going to let you hurt me again."  
  
He slammed the door after him.  
  
"All that I am you have made me  
And baby, I know that it's true  
I'd give it all up in a heartbeat  
Just to spend every moment with you  
There's no place that I wouldn't follow  
There's nothing that I wouldn't do  
'Cause I wouldn't wanna be me  
If I didn't have you"  
-Amanda Marshall, If I Didn't Have You  
  
He closed the door softly behind him that night, knowing Lindsey would be asleep. He didn't want to disturb her. Across the dimly-lit living room he could see the thin outline of Catherine asleep in a chair, her mouth open slightly.  
  
He took a step. She jerked awake. "You're late," she said, and her voice resonated through the room.  
  
"Sorry," Warrick said in a hushed whisper, as if he was still trying not to wake her up.  
  
She blinked a couple of times, stretched, and stood. "I've been waiting here for what seems like forever. Where have you been?"  
  
"Just out," he replied, knowing it would only make her more angry. Before she burst he said, "Tell me you love me."  
  
"What?!" Her question was loud and disruptive, causing his eyes to widen. He should have known better. She was pissed at him, and he was asking her to say the three words she hadn't said in almost a year.  
  
He crossed the room slowly, laying a hand on her shoulder, and tried to speak to her using just his eyes. Her glare had softened considerably. "Tell me you love me," he repeated.  
  
  
She sighed, frowning at his abruptness. When he smiled slightly she seemed to become even more confused. "What's wrong with you?"  
  
"Nothing," he said, frowning and reaching down to stroke her cheek. Leaning in to brush his lips against hers, he sighed against her mouth and rested his hand on the small of her back.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?"  
  
Her bewildered voice cut through the tranquility of the room. Warrick winced. "I'm sorry?" More a question than an apology, his words seemed to hang on her raised eyebrow, waiting to be accepted by her facial expression.  
  
"You know, I really don't understand you," she began, but he cut her off with a forceful kiss, making the words into a mumble. She resisted at first, but gave in when he pushed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall behind her.  
  
He needed this. Needed to be reminded why he had come home today in the first place. Catherine's shirt reminded him of Vanessa's. Her breath was soft and warm like Vanessa's. He needed to be able to feel Catherine's hand pressed against his neck without thinking of Vanessa. He needed to know if there was any shred of dignity left for him to hold onto.  
  
When someone first falls in love, their minds are completely intoxicated with that person. Obsession takes them over. They eat, drink, dream that person. Exhilaration fills their lungs, they become a new person with a new life to live. Every day is filled with a beautiful sense of wonder that fills them heart and soul.  
  
Time goes on. Years pass. That love soon becomes stale. The very thing they found so fascinating in the first place - that is how loving them was like breathing- is the thing that has become their undoing. Love is no longer an exciting new emotion. It's an everyday activity that is like routine, like going through actions. They become less like lovers and more like robots.  
  
Warrick needed to get back that obsession. He needed something to reinforce the love he knew was buried somewhere amidst the clutter this house held. He was being pulled away from his family by some kind of undertow, and he prayed to God that tonight would be his lifeboat.  
  
She responded with such force to his advances, such passion, that he knew it had been way too long since he had acted this way towards her. Mumbling her name into the skin of her neck, he felt with his hands as the hairs on her back stood on end from his touch. The thought that he could cause this reaction made him kiss her even deeper until she was begging him for more.  
  
To her, he was the only thing she had left, her last chance at a life of love, her last hope for a partner to spend the rest of that life with.  
  
To him, she was his last chance. The only thing standing in the way of diving wholly and completely into the deep end. The only reason he hadn't already given up.  
  
Vanessa, his ex-wife. His first love. The woman who he still desired, still wanted. Catherine, the woman who he had pledged his life to. The woman who had said she would have bared his children had it not been too late. The woman he had spent the last three years of his life giving himself over to.  
Running his hands up and down her back, he could feel every fibre of his being become electrified. This is where he belonged. This is where he needed to be. With her. Looking down into her eyes he saw every reason he had fallen in love with her and then, every reason he hadn't given into Vanessa.  
  
Later, she sighed, letting him curl up beside her and kiss her shoulder. His eyelids were heavy, and he began to drift into a sleep that seemed like the perfect ending to a wonderful night. The scent of her calmed his breathing, and soon he was barely awake.  
  
"Warrick?" He didn't answer, too loaded down with the sweetest exhaustion to say anything. She sighed, obviously thinking he had fallen asleep. Then, through the fuzziness of his sleepy mind he heard, "I love you." 


End file.
